


Siege Tactics

by eris



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 03:37:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2413529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eris/pseuds/eris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything escalates so quickly on this planet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Siege Tactics

**Author's Note:**

> coda to the s1 finale, i.e. old and shamelessly plotless, but when I found this in my googledocs it made me laugh, so there you go.

John found McKay in the lab. He hadn't actually been looking for McKay in the first place, but he'd heard a shrill shout and a loud crash and when he'd passed one of Rodney's colleagues outside the doors she'd shot him such a hunted look as she fled down the hall that he felt a certain sense of executive obligation. Rodney stopped pacing as soon as he walked in, but that frenetic energy only transferred to his face, which was undergoing such a rapid succession of horrifying expressions John felt himself wince just to see it.

"McKay," John said, very slowly. "How long has it been since you slept?"

It was a stupid question, because no one had slept much these last few days--who could have slept?--but when he stopped to really think about it, he couldn't recall a single waking moment that Rodney's burbling numerical narratives and snapped irritations hadn't dominated the comms. Surely he must have stolen hours here and there. Beckett had said something about stimulants--

"You!" Rodney croaked, with a weirdly aggressive squint. "You were dead." The words left him in a rush of air, one heaving exhalation that seemed to shake his entire body. Then the scowl melted into a look like Rodney couldn't quite remember where he'd been going with that train of thought. "But then you weren't dead, and we were all going to be dead but you--you were alive, and--"

" _Rodney_."

"Four days," Rodney said. His hands were still twitching in front of him, the left gripping the right, tensing and laxing ineffectually.

"What?"

"Since I've slept. Four days." The dark circles weren't too bad, but Rodney's eyes were feverishly bright. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and pointed all directions elsewhere. There was a peculiar sort of desperation in his voice which the words alone didn't warrant, but it wasn't worth even trying to unravel the complexities of McKay hysteria, not when he was standing there looking ready to vibrate out of his own skin.

"Okay, I get it," John said, in a tone he could only hope was a calming. One side of Rodney's face twitched a little, but he didn't interrupt, only shifted his weight back and forth from one foot to the other and looked equally imbalanced on each. "I get it, you were worried, right? But the shield's holding stable and now it's time for you to go back to your room and lie down for a while and let us take care of the details, okay?"

Rodney was still staring forward, maybe uncertain whether or not John had finished. John leaned in a little and said, more insistenly, " _okay_?"

" _Dead_ ," Rodney re-iterated uselessly, pointing one single accusatory finger at John's chest. Like he'd only been waiting, unlistening, for John's cue to continue. "There was a nuclear detonation! Stupid, impossibly and incomprehensibly stupid, 500 kiloton explosion, _literally no way_ anyone could survive, I don't--"

"I'm _standing right here_ , McKay."

"Ha! Of course you are. You're John Sheppard! The law of physics don't even _apply_ \--"

There were easier ways to shut Rodney up, like a gag or a wraith stunner or an old-fashioned blow to the skull, but if Atlantis had taught them anything it was how to improvise in a crisis. Rodney's mouth was moving like he was still trying to expel more of this rant, so John cupped the back of his neck and pulled him in, hard. There was a moment where Rodney went absolutely still, not even breathing, but that moment tapered off into a strangled moan and then he was kissing John back. 

Which, if he were perfectly honest, John hadn't counted on--because Christ, they were in the _lab_. Anyone could walk in anytime, and he couldn't even begin to explain.

 _Impulse control._ They'd always put that one on his report cards as a kid.

"Oh," Rodney was mumbling, in between the little gasps of breath he stole when John's lips would relent. "Oh, that's--" and fuck, John was so beyond caring who saw it, because Rodney wanted it too, Rodney's teeth scraped his bottom lip and he was pretty sure he hadn't been this hot for it since he was a teenager, that this had to be some kind of weird post-adrenalin mania, but--

"Okay," John forced out, pulling back, "okay, no, stop."

"What?" Rodney's stim-fueled hysteria had nothing on the wild-eyed incredulity he wore now. "You want to _stop_?"

A compelling argument, John thought stupidly--but no, it wasn't an argument at all, and this had to stop somewhere before it got entirely out of hand. "Yes?" he tried, a bit weakly.

Rodney was trying very hard to wedge his thigh between John's legs, and John was only barely holding him off with palms pressed to his trembling shoulders. "No," Rodney announced, loud enough John hissed and threw another glance at the exits, but there was a good chance Rodney'd scared away his entire staff well before John arrived anyway. Then again, there was a chance they all had some kind of Stockholm syndrome by now.

Rodney's eyes were darker, harder with resolve, but there was still a fevered sheen that made something anxious and hot twist low in John's stomach. His face was very close. "No, this was a _good_ idea," Rodney was saying, nodding in emphatic agreement with his own words. "Listen: I can recognise a good idea, it's a natural consequence of the fact they're usually my own--"

"Oh my god," John groaned, because he sometimes he really regretted his choices. 

Thirty seconds later he was still tripping into a storage closet and Rodney was kicking the door shut behind them. Rodney launched himself forward and latched onto John with lamprey intensity, mouthing and sucking at the junction where John's neck met his shoulder, and it was sloppy and wet and disgusting but also kind of good, so whatever. John's back hit a pile of boxes and he heard a sound awfully like glass shattering, somewhere.

"It's fine," Rodney mumbled, muffled by damp skin. He'd been breathing through his nose and it tickled, but when John tried to shrug him away he only bit down hard. John's hips jerked involuntarily and Rodney made an absurd humming noise of approval, then lapped soothingly at the bruise with his tongue. "No live samples in this lab, it's fine."

John had even less orthodox ideas about shutting Rodney up spinning dizzily in his head, and it may have been reckless but hell, he hadn't died in a 500-kiloton explosion so he was feeling pretty good about things so far. He dropped down to his knees and pressed his whole face to the front of Rodney's uniform trousers.

Everything escalated so quickly on this planet.

Rodney made a noise half between a shriek and a moan, which at least wasn't anywhere near English, and John took that as encourgement to mouth at the contours of Rodney's erection, dragging his tongue with some effort to wet the rough polyester. Rodney's hands clawed frantically at John's scalp, but he wasn't pushing him away and he wasn't pulling too hard either, so it was kind of nice after all. John pushed him back so his ass was flat to the wall, then reached for his zipper and looked up from under his lashes, just to make sure Rodney wasn't going to have an aneurysm or something.

Rodney was staring, eyes wide and a little bit wet, pupils blown. He dropped one hand to steady himself against the wall, then opened and shut his mouth a few times without saying anything, until John couldn't hold it in anymore, and smirked at him. "Have any more great ideas, McKay?"

"Oh my god," Rodney whined, sounding desperate. His hand tightened in John's hair and his thighs were trembling under John's palms and his dick was jutting under his boxers, inches from John's face. "What? Oh my god, is this _bullying?_ Am I being bullied?"

When John huffed out a sigh he must have been close enough Rodney felt it, because Rodney's hips jerked and John finally took pity. He didn't even pause to look at Rodney's dick when he freed it, because he was feeling the urgency himself now, and he really wanted to jerk off. A little reciprocity was always better, but it wasn't like he could count on Rodney to stop running his mouth long enough to make good use of it.

He pressed a thumb into Rodney's hip to hold him still, then wrapped his lips around the head of Rodney's cock and let it rest on his tongue, hot and heavy. With his free hand he worked at his own belt, but it was somehow inordinately difficult, like one of those horrible dreams where you're too clumsy to accomplish the simplest manual tasks. He must have lost his concentration because Rodney began to whimper again and tried to push forward. That was all right too, really, so John let go of him experimentally. John swiped his tongue in lazy circles and thought about just taking it, just letting Rodney fuck his mouth. He scrubbed an impatient palm over his own trapped erection, then got back to work on his belt while he still had both his hands free. 

Rodney twitched in his mouth and seemed to realise all at once there was nothing stopping him from moving anymore, because he started to thrust, slow and shallow, shaking all over from the unexpected feat of restraint. John pulled away with a wet sucking sound that went straight to his own dick. Before Rodney could protest he slurred out, "s'fine," and licked a broad stripe down his own palm. "Don't go easy." His dick was finally out and finally in his hand and it was so good he let his eyes fall shut with a groan. 

Rodney was making a weird, strangled noise, so John looked up at him again, with one very slow and very pointed stroke, like he could somehow impress on Rodney the severity of his situation.

"That's," Rodney tried, then swallowed, throat working uselessly for a long moment. He was sweating and his face was so red it was almost fascinating. "That's _so unfair_ , oh my god. You're _obscene._ "

John rolled his eyes and took Rodney's cock right back into his mouth. He didn't seem to have any complaints, because he grabbed a new fistful of John's hair and used it to hold John's head still while he thrust in. He went so deep John's nose bumped skin and he gagged a little, eyes prickling, but it was okay. Rodney was tugging too hard on his hair, but he was moving, pushing against the roof of John's mouth while John hollowed his cheeks and sucked him, and it was good, so good he sometimes forgot to keep his own hand moving and when he remembered his whole body felt hot with the sensation. It was pretty fucking great, actually.

"Oh," Rodney whispered, but holy shit, was he still trying to talk? John grunted and gave him a hard look, insofar as he could manage with wet eyes and a mouth full of cock, but when Rodney's eyelids fluttered open and his gaze met John's something seemed to hit him so hard he shuddered from the force of it, and then his mouth was completely slack because he was coming down John's throat.

John kept still and loose until Rodney dropped his hands and crumpled back against the wall, then he didn't bother to wipe the drool from his chin before he got to work in earnest, watching that stupid soft look of surprise on Rodney's flushed face while he pumped his own cock in his fist, until he had to close his eyes because _fuck_ , he was coming all over his hand.

Worth it, probably.

When John had the presence of mind to check up on Rodney he looked ready to collapse, so John scooted back just to be safe. Rodney slid down the wall until his ass hit the floor, dick still hanging out of his pants. John felt like laughing, a little, but instead he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, and wiped his dirty hand on Rodney's leg. It was a testament to _something_ that Rodney didn't even object. John tucked himself back into his trousers and Rodney watched him the whole time, owlish and utterly still, like maybe full-body exhaustion was the only thing staving off a panic attack.

"Hey," John said, carefully, because Rodney's histrionics could get messy if he didn't intervene right away. His knees were starting to hurt from the kneeling and he didn't want to prolong the awkward Talk any longer than necessary. "Hey, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to feel relaxed after that. Still with us, buddy?"

"I'm," Rodney said, and somehow he flushed even _darker_. It was almost kind of cute, if you were into that sort of thing. He looked away and only then seemed to realise he was still half-naked, and frantically put his pants back to order. "I'm, yeah. Oh. Are we done?"

"I'm done," John said patiently. He pushed himself up and stretched his back until it gave a satisfying pop, then reached down to take Rodney's hand and pull him up too. Rodney wobbled a little but seemed to hold steady enough on his own feet. "Are you done?"

"Yes," Rodney said, nodding along. "Yes, I'm good."

"Good."

"Yes."

" _Oh my g--_ " Rodney began to wail, but John caught it in time with his mouth. It was more like a blunt impact than a kiss, and it hurt, because his lips smashed against Rodney's teeth. But as soon as Rodney realised what was happening his shoulders went slack and the terror seemed to drain out of him all at once.

John pulled away, feeling a little bit smug.

"Also unfair," Rodney said, in a daze. "Are you gonna keep doing that? Because--"

"Rodney," John interrupted. "Don't worry about it. Right now you're gonna follow me to your quarters because I know your bed is a double and you need to sleep, like, ASAP."

Rodney was staring at him with the strangest expression. He still seemed a bit lost for words, and it was a pretty good look on him, to be honest. "Aren't you on duty?" he managed, eventually.

John shrugged, and steered him around by the arm. "I'm always on duty. This is a duty. If you die who's gonna fix the Ancient espresso machines when they break?"

Rodney made a face, but he kept pace down the hall, shoulder brushing John's while they walked. "Okay, but I just want to re-iterate that this was entirely my idea," he said. "You only have stupid ideas, like flying spaceships into certain death. Unless you get mad or upset or have second thoughts, in which case this was all your idea and it was completely and utterly stupid."

"Rodney," John said. "Shut up."


End file.
